Luke Strotman stands in the parking lot
of Adams Field, silhouetted against a mostly gray sky streaked with the orange
rays of a setting sun. Luke watches the Deerfield sophomore football team’s
game against Waukegan. Calm, talkative and joking, Luke will be taking the home
turf for the final time in just a couple of hours as a member of the DHS
varsity football team.

Although he has been a part of the team
for the past four years, Luke has never caught a pass, made a tackle and isn't
listed on the team's roster. That doesn’t mean that Luke fails to help DHS win
though. As the ball boy, Strotman sprints on and off the field giving the
referees fresh footballs from the sidelines whenever they are needed.

“Honestly, if he didn’t have a shaved
head, you wouldn’t know he had cancer,” Mark Strotman, Luke’s brother, said.

Luke has waged a 13 year war against
two types of cancer, with a third battle commencing this summer.

When Luke was 4 years old, doctors told
the Strotman family that Luke had a cancer known as neuroblastoma. The cancer
is a tumor that develops in nerve tissue and is usually found in infants and
young children. Luke underwent radiation treatment and the neuroblastoma
eventually subsided.

Nine years later, however, Luke said he
was feeling increasingly sick. After going to the hospital, tests came back
with dreadful news. At 13, Luke faced his second battle with cancer. As a
result of the chemotherapy used to treat the neuroblastoma, Luke developed acute myeloid leukemia (AML), a cancer that begins in the
bone marrow and can quickly move into the blood stream. In order to cure AML,
Luke received a bone marrow transplant from his brother, Mark.

This
summer, Luke sat in a hospital room at the Lurie Children’s STAR Clinic in
Chicago. After he arrived, two Chicago Cubs players paid him a visit. Tony
Campana, who is now cured of Hodgkin's
lymphoma after ten years of
treatment and Anthony Rizzo, who also battled the disease, gave Luke a Cubs
jersey with his last name on the back.

But
what Campana and Rizzo really gave Strotman was a jumpstart on the optimism he
would need to get through the next few minutes, let alone the next week, month
or year.

“The happiness only lasted an hour,” Beth Strotman,
Luke’s mother, wrote on Luke’s CaringBridge page, a website for cancer patients
that updates friends and family of the patient’s progress. “Dr. Kletzel came in
to tell us that the blood test showed blasts, or immature white blood cells,
were present. That could only mean one thing: our hearts are broken and four
years after battling AML, the leukemia is back.”

Luke began a new journey to defeat
cancer on June 18, 2012. He began his chemotherapy less than a week after his
seventeenth birthday.

During Luke’s first round of
chemotherapy this summer, Mark shot him a quick text while at work just to
check up on him. Mark asked Luke how he was doing and what he was up to.

“Nothing. Getting chemo,” Luke texted
his 22-year-old brother.

Nothing.
Getting chemo.

It is that passing reference of the
potentially deadly treatment of chemotherapy that makes Luke such a hero to
Mark. It isn’t that Luke doesn’t understand what he goes through, Mark says,
but his optimism always shines through as he is willing to go through whatever
it takes to get better.

“I texted him in order to boost his
spirits,” Mark said. “But he boosted my spirits with that text. He is being
such a trooper through all of this…here I am worrying about Luke getting this
chemotherapy and he is just kind of shaking it off. I’ll remember that text for
the rest of my life.”

Evidenced by his nonchalant text
message, Luke’s positive outlook on his situation gives not only himself the
strength to keep fighting but it inspires his family to keep up the fight
alongside him.

“Having
a positive attitude is half the battle. Our family could not be more positive
about it and that is led by Luke. Luke is probably the most positive out of all
of us. He keeps us going, which is unbelievable,” Mark said.

On Aug. 28 just before 7 p.m., Luke
Strotman walked out to the mound at Wrigley Field. He peered down the 60 foot,
six inch path towards his target: Cubs pitcher Brooks Raley. Pitching out of
the stretch, Strotman lifted his left leg up off the dirt cocked his right arm
back and let the ball go.

“I was worried. I thought that it was
going to seem like a long throw,” Luke said. “But once I got on the mound, it
did not seem like that long of a throw.”

Earlier in August, the Cubs sent Luke a video featuring
Rizzo and Campana, along with owner and family friend of the Strotmans Tom
Ricketts, encouraging him to keep battling against leukemia and offered Luke
the opportunity to throw out the first pitch at Wrigley Field.

“When Rizzo said, ‘We want you to come
throw out the first pitch,’ I nearly lost it,” Luke said.

But for Luke, the first pitch was only
a small part of what made the night of Aug. 28 so special.

The Strotmans were expecting the
results from tests that Luke had taken to come back either that day or the
next. Based on the results, Luke’s doctors could determine whether his AML was
in remission.

“We were all kind of on pins and
needles,” Mark said. “It was funny because we didn’t know whether we wanted to
find out before Luke threw out the first pitch because if he wasn’t in remission,
that was pretty much bad news.”

Before arriving at Wrigley, Beth
informed those who were traveling with the family that she just received a call
from Dr. Elaine Morgan with the results of the tests. The
tests came back showing that the cancer was in remission.

“I got a
little teary because, you know, I don’t have to go through any more of this
chemo and stuff,” Luke said. “It could not have been a better night: throwing
out the first pitch at a Cubs game and finding out I’m cancer free.”

Although
being in remission doesn’t mean that Luke is totally cured of AML, it does mean
that he can start to prepare for another bone marrow transplant later this
year.

“He’s
as good as he could be right now,” Mark said.

The
night served as a testament to the strength of Luke and his family. Moments of
pure joy like this are hard to explain and have been few and far between for
the Strotmans this summer.

“It
was just unbelievable news. It couldn’t have been better timing. It was
honestly like it was out of a movie,” Mark said. “We were on our way to have
this amazing night and we found out some even more amazing news.”

With
beads of sweat dripping over their silver facemasks and onto the turf at Adams
Field during preseason two-a-days, head coach Steve Winiecki’s Warriors were
getting ready for their first game against Zion-Benton. Coming off a conference
championship in 2011, every member of Winiecki’s team was hungry to get back
onto the field, even Luke Strotman.

Normally,
Luke would be out at practice helping with bags of equipment and would be
another set of watchful eyes for the coaching staff. This year, however,
Strotman wasn’t physically present at Deerfield’s training camp like he was in
the past.

As
position battles raged and coaches installed plays throughout the summer, Luke
endured chemotherapy and constant trips to the hospital in an effort to be
ready for the Warriors’ opener on Aug. 30.

After
a few rounds of chemotherapy, clearance from Dr. Morgan and three days removed
from finding out that his cancer was in remission, Luke was ready for week one.

“I
just remember walking out of our walkthrough before we got on the bus and there
was Luke and his dad. Luke was ready to go,” Winiecki said.

Although
neither Luke nor Winiecki had any doubt that Strotman would be attending the
game, their emotions were hard to overcome.

“When I just
saw coach Winiecki for the first time in who knows how long, I really thought I
was going to cry and I thought he was going to cry also. We gave each other a
big, big hug and he just wanted to know how I was doing. I told him, ‘I was doing fine. I told you
that I would do everything I could to get to this game and I’m right here and
ready,’” Luke said.

Luke’s relationship with Winiecki began
when he coached Luke’s older brothers Mark and Jack in high school. After
getting to know each other better through Luke’s years at DHS, Luke now looks
at Winiecki as a mentor and role model.

“Four years
later, Winiecki is a guy I look up to. He’s one of the reasons why I just keep
fighting hard. Every time I wanted to just quit the battle, I just remember him
always telling us that you don’t ever give up the fight, you keep fighting
until the final whistle and that is, just simply, what I did. I don’t think I
could have gone through this without Winiecki,” Luke said.

The feeling, Winiecki insists, is more
than mutual. Winiecki, along with the Warrior football team look to Luke for
motivation and as an example of what persistence, perseverance and hard work
can accomplish.

“We
look at Luke as our inspiration,” Winiecki said. “It’s that you’ve got this guy
who is fighting this disease with every ounce of energy he has and putting up
this battle every day… He’s so selfless and this is what gets me so choked up
about it…You talk about ‘fighting the good fight,’ we talk about that in the
game, but that is so trivial compared to what he’s doing. And those are the
lessons. You know, winning is fantastic. We want to have conference
championships but the lessons we get out of sports in general, and football in
particular, is being selfless and sacrificing for some greater good. That is
what Luke’s doing, but his greater good is his life.”

As
one last Hail Mary attempt by DHS quarterback Ben Ethridge fell to the turf to
end a 14-7 loss to Waukegan, Luke raised both hands to his head, looked towards
the dark September sky and winced.

Luke
rarely showed signs of anguish when battling cancer, but as the clock struck
zero and with the Warriors down by seven, he seemed vulnerable. He wasn’t
vulnerable in the sense that he was weak, but it was as if his positive and
hopeful personality vanished for that instant.

For
Luke, Deerfield football isn’t just another sports team. He never appears sorry
for himself that he can’t play, it is simply enough for Luke to be a part of
the team. That was all Luke needed to drive him toward getting back on the
field against Zion-Benton and maintaining an encouraging outlook even when
doctors diagnosed him with cancer for a third time.

But
it isn’t cancer that is on the forefront of Luke’s mind right now; it is how
the Warriors may fare without him. Luke’s senior season will be cut short as he
prepares
for his second bone marrow transplant in four years in an effort to win this
battle and ultimately his war with cancer.

“I
just expect the team to do what I always want them to do,” Strotman said. “That
is just to play their hardest. I don’t care if they get a win or a loss. I just
want to see them work their hardest. My season is coming to an end very soon
and I just hope they continue playing hard even though they might have to spend
the last four games of the year without me. I hope they still can keep up their
spirits.”

Taking
a lesson from Luke, keeping their spirits high shouldn’t be all too difficult.

Friday, December 7, 2012

I wrote this story for my A.W. Gryphon
Bits & Pieces Blog on 11 September 2011. It’s strange looking back on that
now. That date came four days after my fifth of six chemotherapy sessions… and
four days after I lost my dear friend and step-mom to brain cancer. I was
bloated, bald, desperate for reconstructive surgery, being riddled with hot
flashes and night sweats, exhausted and full of hope. When you are alone with
your soul, that what’s you have to decide, are you willing to hang on to hope?
That was never an issue for me. I was full of hope and fight like I didn’t know
existed. I was also full on honesty and truth on a level I never knew existed.
I’d always been a straight forward person, but with cancer it was magnified and
I’m grateful that it still is. It’s that magnified truth that inspired this
story of Bronwyn the Brave.

~

Brave.
It’s a big word and honorable one. A crown that is never taken lightly by those
on the giving or receiving end of it. Brave was a concept that Bronwyn had
always admired. That she felt was the greatest compliment to anyone whom it was
bestowed upon. A brave person was one to be celebrated and praised. Brave was a
quality Bronwyn had a great deal of respect for accompanied by anadoration which she felt was welcomed and
treasured by anyone on the receiving end of it no matter who or where the
compliment came from. Until, that is, Bronwyn had a complete understanding of
what one had to go through to be deemed, brave. Until the person on the
receiving end of the title of brave was her.

Brave
is one thing to someone presenting the compliment and something altogether
different to the person receiving it. It isn’t that it is good or bad or
negative, not at all. It is simply something you can’t imagine until you
yourself have been deemed, “brave.” To date, that was Bronwyn’s largest lesson
and realization in her journey.

She
in no way wanted to complain, not at all, Bronwyn only wanted to be understood
and was therefore always careful with her words when trying to explain her
feelings. It was an honor for her to be thought of as an inspiration and to be
held in such high esteem. It was taking quite a bit of getting used to as in
Bronwyn’s mind she was simply rolling with the punches life had decided to send
her way. She wanted to help and empower everyone she could, but what Bronwyn
also wanted was to feel loved and to be loved, not because of what she was
doing or how she was doing it, but because of who she was. Who she was completely.
With all of the courage and fight she was exhibiting, for Bronwyn she was
simply walking down the only path available to her. She was still a normal
woman with dreams of love, career, romance and adventure. She lived for quietly
watching the sun set, walking on the beach while the daylight kissed her skin
and curling up under a warm blanket on a cold afternoon to watch movies and
maybe order a pizza to enjoy with a good friend or a sweet love.

Bronwyn
was many different things. Brave was only one of them. Brave wasn’t even
something she realized she was until people began telling her that on a daily
basis. It was the label that changed everything for her. For her core group of
friends and family, brave was an addition to the Bronwyn they already knew. For
those less close to her and just coming into her life, brave defined her or so
it seemed in most cases. In the beginning that was alright, then slowly, but
surely Bronwyn realized that brave put her in an invisible glass box on the
shelf of a virtual museum where she could be celebrated and admired, but not
touched or hugged or loved or understood for who she was as a complete person.
As much as she understood and wholeheartedly appreciated the new phenomenon,
the label of brave was the loneliest thing she had ever experienced in her
life. It was truly the definition of a double-edged sword for her because as
much as it tortured her it was the greatest compliment she had ever known.

In
many ways Bronwyn had become untouchable to others overnight and that
frightened her. As elated as she was to have become a brave and inspiring being
to so many, knowing that there was no going back, Bronwyn could only wonder who
could see past that and who would be able to come into her life beyond the
brave and truly love her. The brave her, the scared her, the quiet, the
adventurous, the annoying, the playful, the good, the bad, the ordinary… all of
it. How many friends would she have? How many would lose sight of her? Who
would someday walk through an Italian vineyard with her simply for the soft
company, taste of the grapes and peaceful bliss of the moment without it being
about walking beside the brave that defined her in so many ways to so many?

It
was in fact a double-edged sword and the sword belonged to Bronwyn for the
remainder of her existence. It was something that could not be changed and
something that Bronwyn had no desire to change. Her experience and outlook was
so incredibly different than what the general consensus from the outside
looking in seemed to be. Bronwyn was happy with so much of what cancer had
brought into her life. Everything was different. More exciting. Better. Nothing
was out of reach. Impossible was a concept that no longer lived in her world.
She was in the middle of experiencing the scariest, most empowering and most
liberating gift that life would ever give her and she knew that. The diagnosis
and journey through the fight had given Bronwyn a perspective on life she never
would have had and which she held close to her heart, understanding all the
while that cancer too was a double-edged sword which angered and freed her to
extremes beyond comprehension.

There
were no decisions or rationalizations to be made. There was nothing here nor
there to be done other than wait and see who did what and when as life
continued. For Bronwyn all there was to do was express herself in the manner
that felt most comfortable to her, a manner that allowed her to be. On some
days that would be hard, on others liberating. It was all part of accepting the
woman she was and the somewhat mythical character she was becoming. It was the
beginning of Bronwyn the Brave.